Tag Archives: Orkley Andy^*~~

May 1, 2026 · 1:04 pm

00500206 (STOP/GO)

—–

Only when planetary traveler Gemilly Niceniece looked at the video afterwards did she see the A on the rock directly below her right where she decided to stop and pan around…

… which seemingly turned into a P on the other side of it. “AP!” I called aloud when seeing the transformation from my own angle, remembering the joined letters from the day before. “What was it? The Annie Oakley case?”

“Orkley Andy,” spoke someone to the side listening in, probably W aka Wheeler, the female half of our duality with a better memory, we can imagine. “Biff Carter’s case,” she clarified more for the reader than the writer. “But connected to Oakley… Annie. Together, they make–”

“–a complete A-Z time loop,” I completed, so excited I was that I forgot who was speaking in the moment. Freed up, W/Wheeler started checking her phone. Then:

“38-AP to be precise it says here, with, hmm, 37-QZ being the Oakley Annie one… *before it*. Names reversed, letters reversed. Let’s see — caused Biff to become prematurely retired and then quickly retired again when he tried to make a comeback.”

“In-ter-est-ing.”

https://bakerbloch.com/2022/03/16/00320206/

And exactly between 00320206 and 005002006 here, we found out just later, is 00410206, where we find Biff yet again. Titled “(Biff)” even.

https://bakerbloch.com/2023/11/28/00410206/

Passengers finally unload at Bellisaria’s Shobu station at the end of the straight as an arrow tracks in the shadow of towering Mt. Sakuru, let’s keep calling it. Father Fecked’s cane appears first out of the train, calm now after all that shaking from the last 7-10 minutes was over. Should’ve pinpointed this all important location before, but better late than never I suppose. The SYSTEM speaks, I understand. Egging me forward. Just like before; just like always. TBC(!)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0050, 0206, Bellisaria, GTA, Starfield

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March 16, 2022 · 8:16 am

cities

On her break, she liked to come to this park in the middle of it all to read her latest red book, this Lorsters Worst lady of the night. No sex in the book, since she needed to get away from all that which surrounded her like stardust glitter. Here: good solid plants. Earth. Grounded, she was. But break’s about over and the man with the big blue RAM truck with the souped up engine she didn’t quite understand the workings of had just killed his current adversary, the one who kidnapped his Damsel in Distress who was the same as his wife. These were no swingers. Really. That phony lifestyle got them in trouble but there was no sex involved in their interactions with the Charlotte club. Why would he allow that? she thinks for the character, the retired policeman who was now a private dick. That would be his, ahem, *unit* thinking for him, which needed to remain private.

—–

I think back to when I met the guy, in a Cassandra City establishment called Big Dick’s Halfway Inn.

He sat in relative darkness in the corner of the lobby, waiting for me it seemed. Probably was. I was an older man at the time, which means the same age as currently down to the month, day, minute. I asked him if he was the name on the establishment. He scooted forward, removed his crossed hands and revealed himself, said he was that in the flesh. I turned away, having seen enough. Biff Carter was his name. I remember that clearly. I also recall the hotel was full that evening, and I ended up sleeping in the chair opposite him in the lobby. He removed himself sometime — I don’t recollect when. Gabby (clerk) returned about midnight from his looong long lunch break, as he called it (another break!), woke me up, and after gabbing quite a bit about unrelated topics said I couldn’t stay here. Then he recognized me from the band — we were playing at Shenanigans at the time — and changed his mind, said it was okay instead. He later wrote me, after I had acquired much greater fame and also fortune, that he regretted that night with all his soul. Should have kicked someone out and given you their room, he said, but still didn’t say who.

Actually, now I’m recalling an earlier incarnation, involving another red door ta boot. Wendell “Biff” Carter yes. Just retired from the police force, check (after the Oakley Annie debacle: see case-file 37-QZ). Returned to the force briefly when former fellow cop Philburt got sick on pill, but the debacle that caused him trouble in the first place resurfaced in an unexpected guise (Orkley Andy: see follow-up case-file 38-AP). It was as if he was circling back on himself in an endless loop. He needed to break out. Buying half of a small hotel in the Queen City of the South seemed a recipe for success. But then came the swingers.

Could have been recently deceased Jer Ronamy from Starfish Lake Gabby wanted to kick out but I’m not entirely sure. Have to check the old hotel registers sometime if possible.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0206, Cass City+, Continent's Edge, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus, Yd Island

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January 20, 2021 · 8:58 am

red

I figured a major part of my job now was to figure out who 102 actually is. Or was. This Maebaleia or Satori horned demon highlighting DANGER could be a clue. I know Danger also equates with Dead: Dead Cat Soap, etc.

It’s Bart Smipson but it’s not Bart Smipson. Another ragamuffin of the streets.

It was that t-shirt. He was covering up the t-shirt with his arm. He didn’t want the passing camera to see (!). Or he was indicating the shirt to… me; crossing it. Blood on his… shirt. We’re entering ghost territory (again). He disappears behind a telephone pole. A dead end (in Picturetown). We’ve seen enough. ENOUGH. Gates closed. Text begins again as Barry X. Vampire takes over.

We lie in a pool of blood as Bart Smipson towers above us, Giant for a day.

I think I’ll bring Biff Carter back into the picture. He was the one to let it happen — was on his watch. Demoted to private dick he was after that, no better than a Moby Prick consigned to swim the Southern depths of hell below aerial, pie in the sky Heaven. He was in dark toned, ironically named New Eden. Sometimes he was back on the beat thanks to a shortage of personnel in the local police department due to all those pills. But what of Orkley Andy who was probably the same as Oakley Annie the Ohioan gunslinger? Let it pass, let it slide, Cpt. Henry said as history repeats itself. 3 dead is pretty good numbers for that kind of escapade. We got away with something. Let him get away with it too. Say it was his dog hiding under his couch; go with his story. Hunter the dog — a good story, a *true* story. And so Biff Carter wrote that particular slant in his report, not mentioning the bodies (soon carted away by the ever-present zombies) or the red dress smiling on the ground before him (soon carted away by a female zombie or perhaps a male one experimenting with his sexual identity). All evidence gone and taken care of. He heads down to the Red Dress Diner to talk about all of it with Phyllis at the time…

—-

“Wanda, hi. Where’s Phyllis? I thought it was her shift — just spoke to her over the phone.” Where’s your red dress? he thought.

“Axis. We really need to talk now.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0024, 0407, Google Street View, Hills of Bill, Maebaleia/Satori, New Eden-, West Virginia

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January 7, 2021 · 7:31 am

bigger gun

I had lost a toe. I had lost a hand. My knee was totally banged up, perhaps beyond repair. I was bleeding out. The Former Soviet Union looked on, hopeless to help. I lie in the middle of a swamp with no easy access, none at all.

Little Oakley Annie stood above me, towering for the moment; Giant for a day. In my dying vision I imagined her removing her face to reveal a man’s inside, with a mouthful of gold capped teeth. I remember the teeth vividly, because that’s the first thing I saw when I entered Heaven. A person smiling, with the teeth whiting out. It was the former wife of the mayor of Swamp Fox, greeting me at the gate. I was home.

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January 6, 2021 · 11:46 am

00240203

He had a good look at the back of the bartender from his seat but she wasn’t his type, a bold bodied Jessica Rabbit sort from the Roger Rabbit movie franchise, a mixture of cartoon and caricature. The person actually sitting at the bar nearer him was more interesting, but not necessarily in a sexual way. More like she had information he needed to know — he didn’t know how he knew this but he knew. He *knew* he knew. He was becoming aware of who he was. And this dame — woman — was going to help him over the edge. Back to Canada and Picturetown and the alley with the 102 signature and Charlene the Bigfoot punk and all the other stuff. She was reading — he liked to read, at least the red book. He asked what it was; this was her cue. She turned to face him, scars and all.

“Axis,” she requested. “It’s time to give up the gig.”

Axis? Wendell “Biff” Carter thought. Was this role play? Okay, he could go along. “I’ll give up the gig, then, if you tell me what you’re reading.”

“I’m reading the book you have read. I’m reading the book you have *written*.” She showed him the cover, emblazoned with an inky black swastika as big as an alternate 3rd Reich that actually won WWII. Still didn’t mean anything to him. This was 1939 after all. The big switch hadn’t happened yet.

“Okayyy.” He calculates how to further advance this strange conversation. It had been a strange day. First he was awoken at 5 in the morning and asked to fill in for Philburg down at the station, who was sick on pill. Then during his beat (back on the beat!) he encountered a highly dangerous criminal named Orkley Andy — so close to Oakley Annie! — but turned out to be a sweet guy who had lost his dog Hunter who was just hiding under the couch because of all the gunshots. Never mind the cat stench and the almost cleaned up blood stains. Never mind Phyllis down at the Red Dress diner. Orkley Andy had him phone her up on his phone. She’s okay! Orkley Andy wasn’t a bad sort, just a gun sort. Biff had to ask. “Are you related to the famous gunslinger Oakley Annie?” “Never heard of her,” Orkley lied through his gold capped teeth.

How blind could Biff be? He refocused out of his thoughts and onto the stranger’s face again. So familiar. “Don’t I know you?” — making her huff and leave the place. She’d have to try another time.

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January 6, 2021 · 10:04 am

00240202

Wendell “Biff” Carter was going to run away as far as possible, leaving danger and possible death behind. But he stops when he sees the red dress. He hovers over it. Phyllis, he realizes. He turns toward the hangout. She must be inside. In danger!

But the red dress was actually Phyllis’ co-worker Wanda’s who’s the sister-in-law of Philburg’s 2nd cousin Ethel. Philburg’s revenge continues into yet another post, and perhaps yet another and another. This goes beyond danger into the great beyond. If only he could smell the cat stench all about the place. Soap, the new, extra gritty stuff bought at the local Hurdy Gurdy to wash out all the crime stains.

Orkley Andy had stopped shooting a while back, with everybody dead that was hot on his trail. In this way he snuck up on Biff. He looked over, understanding the red dress bait had glued him to the spot, heh heh heh. He laughs aloud: “Heh heh heh.”

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